Spring Sprang Sprung

When I saw it snowing yesterday morning, I knew I had to do something other than shovel, dress warmly, or open my bedroom window and yell, “Where the hell is Spring, Mother Nature?” It seemed like it had been a long Winter already. I really didn’t mind the cold and the snow; in retrospect, I think that Winter seemed that much longer, because I had been looking forward to several things occurring during the Winter that would give my life a spring of sorts.

Sometimes waiting is the hardest part. Yesterday, it seemed that I had a long time to make it to that spring which would occur in Spring and be the thing that I could say sprung me. This spring, like Spring, would be about new beginnings.

Waiting for my real life to begin, I decided my plan of action for the day – Field of Dreams. Hasn’t a movie ever been your plan of action? When I go for a pedicure, it’s “Pretty Woman.” When I buy shoes from Zappos, it’s “In Her Shoes.” Life imitates art most definitely.

I decided that if I think it, Spring will come. Why the rush? The odd thing about me (okay, we all know there are many odd things about me) is that cleaning calms me. A clean house makes me feel like my world has order even when my world looks like a Picasso, totally abstract; when I’m done cleaning my house, my life is a Singer-Sergeant with everything in its place.

Amazingly, after all these years, I had finally learned a lesson about how to approach cleaning or any other "to do" task. Psychologically, it was better to only put two things on the list than 20. If I only completed two of twenty tasks, I felt defeated; however, if I completed one of two tasks, I had gotten halfway through my list. I liked that math!

Anyway, I surveyed the indoor tundra (a.k.a., the upstairs of my house). Unlike the numerous piles of snow covering the outside tundra, I had small piles or boxes of things in every corner it seemed. I sat down at my desk to make a list of two things to do.

In an instance, I was overwhelmed when I noticed the small box of things next to my filing cabinet. Given that I had been laid off over two years ago, I still had one small box of stuff that I hadn’t yet cleaned out. It was a box of my favorite office things – Post-it Notes, binder clips, pens, pencils, paper clips, magnets, and those pin-like clips that you use to hang things on fabric-covered cubicle walls, which I only remembered were in the box after one stabbed me in the finger!

I wrote “Clean out little box of stuff” on my pad. While rummaging through the box, I found a wine bottle opener; I couldn’t ever remember drinking wine at work (champagne, yes, wine, no), though some days, shouldn't it be a work essential?

When I put the box down, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out from underneath the linen closet door. I opened the door and was immediately attacked by DVD cases, stamp pads, and an Ethernet cable, all of which had fallen off a box that was perched on top of another box on the floor of the linen closet. This was a no-brainer; I then wrote “Clean out bottom half of linen closet” on my pad.

I sprang into action by dragging the box of office supplies to my feet and began to paw through the contents. Ouch! I had found the pin-like clips that you use to hang things on fabric-covered cubicle walls. In addition to the office supplies, I found a folder full of things that used to cover my cubicle walls.

A lot had been hanging on my cubicle walls. In fact, there was so much stuff hanging up that it prompted one engineer to say when he first stopped by, “Wow. It’s like a museum in here. You should sell tickets.” I took that as a compliment.

I sorted through pictures of the kids, postcards, and various things people had given to me. I took a piece of paper that a friend had given me that said, “Look! A shiny object!” and I tossed it into the trash can; it was tough to do, but it was curled up and faded. Though, I did keep the Playboy Club ashtray he had given me, which he had found when he cleaned out his mother’s house after she died.

I found my numbers from the two 5K races I ran on the corporate team when previously employed by my current employer; I pitched those in the trash can. I then came across the short essay I had written that won me a trip to Las Vegas as a Booth Babe, and I pitched that in the trash can, too. I have an electronic copy if I ever want to read how great my company is, especially if they ever lay me off again, which I hope won’t happen again anytime soon!

I found an e-mail that a friend had written to me after running with me for the first time. It said, “I ran with Sizzlechick the Merciless…AND LIVED!” I loved it, but it was crumpled, so I tossed it in the trash can. I realized then that even if you threw something away, the memory of it was still inside your head and your heart. There were going to be new races, trips, and there would always be new friends to run with, who enjoyed running with you.

I came across a paper coffee cup I had saved. It wasn’t just any coffee cup. I can’t even remember why I did this, but it was a cup on which I had pasted a picture of Lucy in her psychiatrist’s booth.



I kept it perched on the top of my cube wall. Every once and a while, one of my co-workers, Chuck, would come by to ask a work-related question. He’d always pull out a nickel or a penny from his pocket and drop it into my cup; I think he even threw a few paperclips in there, too.

I looked at the cup. I laughed, and put the cup in the trash can. I thought, "Those were such good times with some really great people." As Chuck said once, “We didn’t know how good we had then.”

Iz must have ESP, because I had just pulled out the unopened Hello Kitty Pez dispenser from the box when she came thudding up the stairs. “Whatcha doing?” I answered, “Cleaning out stuff,” and her eyes immediately zoomed in on the Pez dispenser.

She asked, “Whose is that?” I looked at it, knowing already it was destined for the trash, and I said, “It’s yours. Do you want it?” She said, “Suuuuuuuure!”

I handed it to her. She asked, as if she were asking to open a Christmas present early, “Can I have some now?” It was 10am, and like a good mother I said, “Suuuuuuuure! Dessert should always follow breakfast!” Heck, it was a holiday of sorts, so I was justified.

Have you ever tried to load one of those Pez dispensers? I think you need a PHD to do it or elf fingers. Since I had neither, I struggled; however, unlike my last attempt, I grouped the Pez into two short stacks and put those two short stacks successfully into the dispenser. I was not too old to learn new Pez tricks!

Iz left with her loaded Hello Kitty Pez dispenser. I sat there pondering what I had left in the box to bring to work and what I had put in the trash can. I rethought some of my toss items; however, I knew I couldn’t keep it all.

Last December, I gave an ornament to a friend who was grieving the loss of her mother’s death on her first Mom-less Christmas. As it turns out, this ornament was one my Mom had given me; it was a mother cat holding a baby cat. The note with the ornament said “A Mother’s Love is Forever.

One of my friends e-mailed me to tell me how much she loved my blog about the ornament. She said she thought I would have saved it for Iz. Then she said that she might have been more sentimental about something like that. I am very sentimental, which is probably why I have piles of stuff in my attic; however, through the years, I realized that sometimes your sentiment might be best nurtured with someone else, so you can be sprung into a spring that gets you to Spring.

It might just be better to know that the memory in your head and in your heart is now comforting someone else’s head and heart. Sometimes, it's more powerful to know that the love in your heart is shared between two hearts. It's an emotional heart transplant; my love is your love, and together we love them both.

When I was finished sorting through my box, I opened the door of the linen closet. I was immediately attacked by DVD cases, stamp pads, and an Ethernet cable. I sprang into action again.

In addition to the many little plastic boxes of stuff, I must have had over 300 thumbtacks; I put them all in a plastic bag. Under the many little plastic boxes of stuff, I also had a plastic three-drawer chest filled with stamps (when I thought I might be a Stampin’ Up! goddess), my many attempts at children’s literature, and Nathan and Iz paperwork (hospital bracelets, school photos, precious drawings science fair awards, and pre-school diplomas).

Nothing belonging to Nathan or Iz was discarded. I still had hopes that I might have tons of time to design wonderful cards, so the stamps were organized and the dried out ink pads were tossed. But, how many copies of “The Legend of the Easter Cat” and “The Cat Rap” did I need? Why was I saving four Children’s Writer magazines from 1991? And, did I really need the manual from a TV I owned 10 years ago and how was it ever filed under Nathan and Iz?

After the linen closet was all sorted out, I heard Iz’s footsteps thudding up the stairs again. She arrived in front on me, scanned my keep and toss piles, and then noticed something that caused her concern. She asked, “Mommy, why are you throwing my rainbow away?”

I said quickly, “Oh, I’m not!” It was a painting she had made on a piece of scrap paper at least four years ago. I know I might seem evil for tossing it, but if I saved everything Iz and Nathan ever created, I would need a librarian to catalog it all and a storage container the size of an oil tanker!

After she thudded off into her room, I picked up her rainbow. I said to myself, “She's right. This is definitely a keeper.” While every piece of paper and every coffee cup was full of fond memories, I could let most of it go, because I carried it all in my heart.

I thought of my name plate outside my cube. I had recently decorated it with heart stickers and pinned my John Fluevog button next to it, which said “No, you’re weird.” It was decorated differently from when I had last worked at my new-old company.

Iz was right; it was all about keeping the rainbow in mind. Keep some of the old, incorporate the new, discard some of the old, and hope for something beautiful at the end of all. You must always hope that you will eventually spring, sprang, sprung into a rainbow; it's at the end, but you just can't see it yet. ♥